Between the Blue Lines
by xovickixo
Summary: It's been years but Dave would recognize Kurt Hummel anywhere...even in Annecy, France.  2018Olympic!Future!Fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Between the Blue Lines (Center Ice)**  
Rating:** R (PG for this part)  
**Spoilers:** Season 2. (The usual suspects of 206 through 208)  
**Disclaimer:** I clearly do not own anything within...props to Ryan Murphy and such.  
**Summary:** It's been years but Dave would recognize Kurt Hummel anywhere...even in Annecy, France. (2018Olympic!Future!Fic.)

_**A.N.** _So much for me finishing my angsty Kurt/Karofsky piece first. This Olympic!future!fic ate my brain and what little time I have available for stuff that isn't RL.  
Also, can someone please inform me why "Kurtofsky" has stuck for the ship name when we have the delicious option of "Karomel"? Just sayin' ;)

.

The sleek, bold outfit catches Dave's eye first. Yeah, Dave definitely has A Type. A Type he's had since high school and 8 years later he still finds his eyes drawn to smartly dressed, lithe men.

Ryan's beside him still talking stats and how the Russian's will be the team to beat and Dave can do little more than nod. His attention is solely on the man across the room talking adamantly on a cellphone. The Olympics are all about the world coming together as one and...and, damn, that guy's jacket is the perfect length to showoff a prime ass. And, yeah, Dave would so be up for letting that pretty, little thing get a taste of some good ol' U S of A hospitality. Dave only hopes the language barrier won't be too bad. He's got a vague recollection of Spanish from high school and, thanks to his teammates over the years, he knows a handful of words in Russian, French and, randomly, Japanese.

The man swings around dramatically and jabs angrily at his phone's screen before shoving the device into his jacket.

It's the slope of the nose that does it. Dave would know that profile anywhere. His teammates don't even warrant a goodbye as he slips away from them and seamlessly weaves through the crowd with his gaze locked on the man across the way. Someone to his left calls out his name but Dave pushes on doing his best not to shove people out of his way.

It's Kurt Hummel, of that Dave is nearly positive.

He still fantasizes about him sometimes, no matter how hard he tries to push the memory of the teen from his mind. It's not as if he actively makes a point to think of Kurt, it's just that his mind would wander at times. Kurt had such an important role in Dave's teen years that to not let his mind slip to him just seems inconceivable. Though he readily admits, with each birthday that passes by, continually fantasizing - accidentally in the shower or not - about a teenage boy who barely managed to look like a teenager at the time is quickly bordering on really damn creepy.

"Kurt?" Dave questions when he finally makes it to the other man's side. He has his hand out and he wants to touch Kurt so very much just to confirm that this isn't a hallucination brought on by the concussion the Doc is always warning him about but he restrains himself. "Kurt Hummel?"

And yeah. Yeah, this is totally him. Those bright, unmistakeable eyes look up and then rove back down briefly before giving a small smile. "The one and only."

It's such a bizarre reaction that Dave actually has to dry swallow and step back. Kurt had never, _ever_, looked at him like that. That flicker of interest in Kurt's eyes causes Dave to swallow back a nervous cough. When he opens his mouth again, Dave finds himself blurting out, "Hi."

Kurt lets a small huff of a laugh out and reaches up to brush at his hair. "Hi."

That, that, causes Dave to blink. Because while there's still that appreciative look in Kurt's eyes, there's nothing beyond that. Not the even slightest hint of recognition. "You have no idea who I am." And, well, shit. There's a look Dave knows. The look now in Kurt's eyes clearly says: _Shit, did we hook-up last week and I completely forgot about it?_ And as enticing as the light blush of embarrassment reddening Kurt's cheeks is, Dave decides to spare the other man. "From high school?"

High school is clearly still a slightly sore topic for Kurt because his face shutters closed almost noticeably as he gives Dave another critical once over. "Karofsky?" Kurt suddenly exclaims, his eyes nearly bugging out as he stares the other man up and down.

Dave looks down at himself and tries for a joke, "I don't think I've lost that much weight." It goes mostly unnoticed as Kurt continues gaping at him in an almost unattractive manner. "So, what brings you," Dave breaks off suddenly as his breath catches. "A-are you one of the competing male figure skaters?" he asks in a rush before he can stop himself.

"No, god no," Kurt denies quickly, giving a dismissive wave. "What about you? What are you doing here?"

"I actually am competing. On the hockey team."

"Oh," and Kurt sounds genuinely surprised. "Oh, that's... Wow, congratulations."

"Tha-"

"Wait, were you implying that me being this flaming fag that, well, obviously, I must be a _figure skater_?"

"No! No, Kurt. Not at all. I'd always," Dave pauses and gives a brief chuckle as he rubs at the back of his neck. He's already gone this far so why not just go for broke, right? "I used to imagine that I'd bump into you while I was practicing on the rink alone. That I could just be myself. I always just assumed you could ice skate. I mean you totally have the body for it. Oh, wow, I totally just vocalized that, didn't I?"

Kurt gives an airy laugh as he drops his gaze down and Dave is captivated by the slight flush of pink on his cheeks.

"So, what are you doing here?" Dave finally asks, having gotten his fill of Kurt's blush. "Are you volunteering?"

"No. I...I'm actually here with one of the skaters."

Oh. "Oh." Of course he is. Of course he's here with one of those overly primped elite skaters. Of course.

Beeping sounds between them and Dave watches Kurt pull back out his cellphone. "Ugh. I, uh, have to go. Em's bitching about his outfit. A stylist's job is never done."

Dave hates the well of hope that bubbles up in himself and wants nothing more than to kick himself in the balls. He still asks, "Stylist?"

"Hm?" Kurt questions, glancing up from his cell. "Oh, ah, yeah. I may not be a figure skater but I am currently designing skating outfits. Em offered to bring me along if I was willing to keep him stylish on and off the ice. So, he calls and I jump," Kurt explains, lifting his cell up. "It was...interesting seeing you, Karofsky. I, uh, guess, uhm, good luck with your hockey games. Go USA!" Kurt cheerfully mocks as he steps back.

"Kurt?" Dave calls out, just as the other man had turned away from him. "I... I'm not going to say sorry. I've spent so many years trying to script out the perfect apology to you for everything I did but it just... I realized that there's no way for me to ever find the right words without making it seem smaller than it was. So, I'm sorry that I let things get so bad and to the point that it was impossible for me to apologize."

Kurt is silent for a long, uncomfortable stretch as he just stares at Dave. He finally finds something, whatever he was looking for, and gives Dave a hesitant smile and a nod. "I'll see you around?"

"I'll keep my eyes open."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

_/ / / There was this guy I went to school with who was completely perfect in my mind. And I hated him for it. Hated that I couldn't stop staring and thinking about him. And just _hated_ myself for wanting him so much. For a while, I unfortunately - I just - I kissed him and then promptly jacked up my bullying. I drove him right out of our school and I'd never felt so disgusted by myself. So all of this...I just...it reached a breaking point and I just couldn't do it anymore. I fueled all my self-hate - not just over being gay but over what I'd done to this boy I loved - into hockey. I'd always played but it became an obsession and was clearly the only way I'd get out of town and to somewhere I could be myself. / / /_

Dave jerks back from the pages of the magazine that are shoved in his face. Despite the close range of the papers the familiar words still jump out and catch Dave's attention. Dropping his fork onto his plate of eggs and hashbrowns, Dave peers around the papers and is surprised to see Kurt standing at his table.

"You're _him_."

"Yes, I am that guy you knew from High School." And before Dave can continue and ask for Kurt to join him for breakfast, the other man is sliding into the chair next to him.

"No, I mean you're Mr. Cover Page of Out's August magazine," Kurt explains, motioning to the article he was holding. Dave gets another look at it and when he notes the lack of gloss it occurs to him that Kurt has printed out the scanned pages from the magazine.

"Uh, yeah, you saw that?" Dave's not really sure what the sudden interest in the magazine is because Kurt hadn't given any indication of that article or any of the other ones he'd done over the years during their brief conversation yesterday.

"Oh, please, who hasn't seen that photo spread?"

Dave assumes there's probably quite a few people who didn't see the article and accompanying photos but keeps the comment to himself. "So, you read the magazine and just assumed there was some other former closet-case named David Karofsky from a small Ohio town?"

"I didn't exactly read the article. My friend may have read out some of the highlights to me while we..."

"Checked me out?" Dave teases and he's maybe a little serious.

Kurt laughs and gives an eye roll, "Oh, shut up. It's the professional athlete thing. I like biceps." And then Kurt reaches out to poke at Dave's.

Dave thinks this may be flirting but he's really not sure because it's _Kurt_ and it's _him_ and their past is bad at best. And, god, now Kurt is rereading that interview that is candid in every sense of the word. And while Dave never actually said Kurt's name in that Out article it's clear as fucking day to _anyone_ who went to high school with him exactly who this unnamed boy he was in love with was. Even Azimio, who Dave talks to once a year, maybe, had managed to call him up to say "Hummel? Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" Having your bullying partner-in-crime, who let your friendship drop to acquaintance after you came out or maybe simply because you moved across the country, call you out on the wrongness of verbally and physically targeting your wannabe high school sweetheart sucks.

It's weird having all your cards out on the table and knowing next to nothing about your opponent.

Dave picks back up his fork and nervously starts picking at his breakfast again. When he finishes his plate he realizes Kurt is still reading. "Come on," Dave starts in a tone that sounds far too forced, "that interview isn't that interesting."

"You're _gay_," Kurt says and Dave's breath catches as he waits for Kurt to unleash years of anger. "You're like Mr. Poster Boy for gay athletes."

"Oh, please, an out and proud professional athlete is so 2014. But one with a past of bullying whose managed to overcome it all and hit big while devoting a lot of time and money to charities that help fucked up kids like himself? Now that, that, garners me a front page on a magazine."

Kurt stares down at the article in his hands. "You being out and...and _proud_ is weird."

"It was weird at first. And now it's just," Dave trails off and shrugs. The silence stretches out again and Dave nervously swallows his coffee down in a bid to keep himself occupied.

"I'm just going to," Kurt starts, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder and vaguely pointing away. "Save my seat while I grab breakfast?"

Blinking, Dave quickly nods. He's surprised Kurt isn't taking this quick out to leave but he's not about to say anything. Dave can't help but let his gaze linger as Kurt slips from his chair and makes his way to the breakfast bar. He's still not sure what to fully think of Kurt's reaction to the article. Should he be hurt that Kurt was clearly going to mentally gloss over the fact that Dave says he was in love with him during the height of his bullying? Should he be annoyed that Kurt didn't react bigger to his coming out? Dave glances towards to exit and wonders if he should slip away himself.

A second cup of coffee arrives with Kurt when he finally makes his way back to Dave's, their?, table. Dave accepts it quickly and smiles in thanks. It's surprisingly easy to sit there in the now vaguely comfortable silence answering a few quick messages on his phone while Kurt starts in on fruit salad and what looks like egg whites.

"So, is this hockey thing like full time? Like this is your career of choice?" Kurt finally asks after putting a good dent into his breakfast.

"Yeah, it was either hockey or seeing about that management position at the rendering plant." Dave's joke falls flat as Kurt just stares blankly at him. "You told me once that... You have no recollection of that, do you? Getting into my face and putting me down?"

"Are you telling me you actually remembered some random insult I threw out at you in high school?"

"Yeah. Each and every one. Come on, I was," But Dave freezes, not being able to follow through with voicing 'completely in love with you' even if it's in black and white print on the papers to Kurt's right, and instead says, "You remember every bad thing Hudson ever did to you, don't you? Back before you became brothers, I mean?" And then he suddenly realizes comparing the two situations is completely the same thing in the end as voicing his feelings for Kurt.

Kurt just kind of blinks at him though. "But it was _high school_."

God, high school. The shit he'd done to kids who were barely teenagers... "But-"

"I couldn't physically attack yous back so I used my words. Tried to quickly string some hurtful words together to throw back in your faces." Kurt rested his chin in his hand as he momentarily studies Dave. "Plus, 'management position'? Yes, rendering plants are vile but managing a factory isn't exactly mindless work. I couldn't have thought of you that badly. I doubt I meant half the insults I threw at you."

"Well, maybe but-"

"David, we were teenagers. We barely even knew who we were back then. Society had laid out a set of rules that," Kurt pauses to shake his head and give a rather angry stab at the remaining egg on his plate. "Look, the stuff that happened between you and me in high school got bad. I'm not in any way saying it's totally cool that you terrorized me but a few years later I was able to look back at everything more objectively and realized that... I just felt sorry for this angry kid who wouldn't accept who he was. Now that bitch Connie Tynnlie? She is inexcusable!" Kurt suddenly started pulling his sleeve up and offering his bared forearm that Dave tries desperately to not stare at too obviously. "She _stabbed me_ with a pair of shears!" And Dave suddenly notices the slightly raised pink scar. "I'll have this mark forever over a few meters of hideous poly-blend. What kind of adult lashes out like that?"

Dave's still a little stunned that Kurt had apparently kinda forgave him ages ago for the shit he'd put him through in high school. Forgive and forget, Dave's mind cheerfully chimed. Not that Dave really has any right at all to have feelings about it one way or another. Dave glances over and realizes Kurt's still staring at his arm and muttering darkly over 'that stupid 24 year old Texan crime again fashion'.

"How about you?" Dave asks, wanting desperately to turn their conversation away from himself and bullying and people getting stabbed. "Always kinda figured you'd try running off to Broadway after high school."

"Always tempting but no," Kurt trailed off as he absentmindedly straightens and smooths his sleeve back into place. "I think spending the last half of my school days in a uniform fully broke me. So when I ran off to New York after graduating from Dalton it wasn't for Broadway but for fashion instead."

"So there's like a school for ice dancing costume making?"

"Oh, god no. At least I hope not." And Kurt looks thoroughly disgusted by the mere thought of it. "I just kinda fell into it by accident. It turns out breaking into the fashion world is hard. Getting past that hurdle was just not happening. I was dating this skater at the time and he asked me to make this 18th century outfit for him. Some people from his skate club started taking notice of his outfits and suddenly I'd found myself this little niche in the fashion world." Kurt shrugs and plucks an orange chunk from his fruit salad. "Not planned at all but it's a paying job and it managed to get me to France. Beggars can't be choosers, right?"

Dave chuckles and raises his mug of coffee. "Well, I'm out and proud and representing my country by playing hockey at the Olympics and you're still out and proud and as fabulous as always while livin' it up in New York and taking the fashion world by storm one sequined uni-tard at a time. So, Lima, Ohio? Take that!"

"Living it up in Albany actually but I'll drink to that!" Kurt corrects as he raises his tea is salute.

"Albany? You're not living in New York itself?"

"Excuse you," Kurt snaps, sounding rather insulted, "do you have any idea how much a nice place is in the mecca?"

"Ok, right, sure. But why not one of the boroughs?" Huh and there's goes another preconceived image he'd always held of Kurt.

"I have several clients who tend to nest up in Lake Placid as well."

"Lake Placid?"

"Oh, my god. Are you just going to parrot back everything I say? Look, Albany is a lovely city. Gregory Maguire is from there," Kurt just waves off Dave's confused look. "It's a nice and central, and large, location between NYC and Lake Placid. And, plus, I have enough contacts in New York that if I want to stay in the city I can usually find a place easy enough for a week or so."

"Ok than... Albany is clearly far superior." Dave quickly drains the rest of his coffee. "Do you want something else to drink?"

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dave is ridiculously proud of himself for not googling Kurt's boss. Especially knowing that googling is clearly one of the first things Kurt did when he found himself a moment, those printouts of his Out magazine spread clear evidence.

It's stupid, he knows it is, that there's that flare of jealousy at the thought of some uppity, little, barely legal, figure skater toting Kurt around the world and having him at his beck and call. Because that's all it is, clearly, to Kurt; a job. And even if it wasn't merely a job, it really isn't any of Dave's business. He knows he has no right to feel jealous.

All that aside he still freezes when he spots Kurt outside with another man.

Dave's currently heading to practice. The rink isn't all too far from the Olympic Village and it's a nice, crisp winter day and Dave just feels like walking. He barely made it 100 feet away from the Village when he spotted Kurt.

Kurt's bundled up in a surprisingly plain grey pea coat. Though Dave assumes there's some high and mighty designer tag attached to it. It's cut mid-thigh which is unfortunate because Kurt's pants look ridiculously tight and the coat is clearly depriving the world, or at least Dave, of the chance to oogle Kurt's ass. It's when Dave pulls his attention away from perving on Kurt that he realizes Kurt's standing with another man talking and passing back and forth a notebook.

The other guy is pretty, _of course_. He's a couple inches shorter than Kurt and looks to be in pique physical condition which, _figure skater_, makes sense. He's sandy haired and golden and smiling widely and Dave's pretty sure he hates who he assumes to be Emerson already. The Team USA jacket worn by the man kind of confirms that it's this Emerson skater person. At least, fuck, Dave _hopes_ that's Emerson... That it's not some other athlete that's caught Kurt's attention.

Jesus, he needs to calm the fuck down.

Dave shakes his head, tightens his hold on his duffel bag and continues towards the rink for practice. Once he gets onto the ice everything will be better. And if a few guys get shoved around a bit rougher than necessary no one will be the wiser.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Hockey is a pretty rough spot. And Dave'll be the first to tell you exactly how demanding and damaging the game is on your body. But all that aside, even he has to tip his hat to figure skaters at times.

He's watching the screen in the lounge that's broadcasting the last round, or whatever figure skaters call their playoff skates, of the pairs skating and there's this Asian couple and they're just soaring and zipping around like it's nothing. The woman is suddenly airborne and is stretching back in a way that Dave's sure would snap his own spine when she suddenly jerks in midair and comes crashing face first into the ice. Dave quickly realizes her skate must have snagged on her outfit.

"Oh, shit!"

Dave nods his agreement to the voice behind him. And thanks to NBC there's quickly a slo-mo instant replay and, shit, that's a lot of blood.

Dave returns his attention back to the crappy sci-fi paperback he's reading while chuckling darkly over thoughts of Kurt's little figure skater face planting on the ice and messing up his picture perfect little smile. He's maybe a little resentful to Emerson at the moment because it's been 24 hours and beside the cup of coffee he'd shared with Kurt after running into him after practice yesterday he's yet to be able to meet up with him again. Not that they'd made any plans one way or another. But Dave had been looking for him, rather thoroughly, and the only reason he was even seated here with a few of his teammates watching live footage of the other athletes is because they'd called him out on his distraction as of late.

The words "isn't that Emerson's stylist" catches Dave's attention and pulls it away from his book. And sure enough, on screen, there's Kurt hurrying to the petite woman's side. The Asian couple's coaches looks ready to physically remove Kurt from the skater's presence. Kurt ignores them and continues speaking with the female skater while brandishing a small black case.

The commentators continue bickering back and forth over whether or not the skating pair will return to the ice to finish their near flawless performance and questioning what the American's stylist is doing with the other skaters.

Ostrzyeki leans forward and asks, "Isn't that your boyfriend?"

"No way," Ryan says, glancing up from his cellphone. "He's way too pretty for Davey's ugly mug."

Dave hits Ryan across the back of his head with his book. "Don't be such a bitch."

"Please, you know you love me."

Dave pointedly doesn't answer Ostrzyeki's question but no one seems to notice. No one notices Dave's wistful look either.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"So, I saw your dramatic save earlier," Dave says, announcing his presence. This little nook inside the main lounge of the Olympic Village is quickly being deemed Their Place in Dave's mind.

Snorting, Kurt tugs Dave over to a couch tucked in the corner. "I don't understand what the big deal was. I just gave her outfit a quick repair and fixed the problem of her incompetent designer."

"It was like aiding the enemy."

"But Emerson isn't even a pairs skater," Kurt protests. He picks his sketch book up off the table and makes himself comfortable on the couch again. "He's-"

"I think more to the fact that they were on the Japanese team, not the Americans."

"Well, that's stupid. Fashion knows no-"

"And then the Japanese pair went to win gold over the American pair by the most ridiculously small of a margin. And then they thanked you on National tv. And then they replayed the clip of you helping them again." Dave just chuckles at the exasperated eye roll Kurt gives. Digging into his bag, Dave pulls out his laptop. He's got a ridiculous backlog of emails from friends and family that he should really try responding to. Maybe they'd let him just send one general email because, really, he's been slightly busy and occupied the last several weeks.

Several long moments pass and Dave looks up from his laptop to realize Kurt and him have slipped into this companionable silence. Dave likes this ease he's starting to feel in Kurt's presence. There's no need to keep up random chatter over fear of uneasy silence and Dave doesn't keep checking to make sure he's not leaning in too closely. They're able to just sit quietly and be in each others presence, mere feet away from each other on a couch...together...jesus, he needs to shut his brain the hell up before it gets away from him. Dave glances over again, watching as Kurt starts on a new sketch. He studied it for a moment before he realizes he was no closer to figuring out what the hell Kurt was drawing.

"What is it?"

"Huh?" Kurt glanced up from erasing a chunk of penciled lines. "Oh, a skating outfit I'm hoping to subtly shop around."

Dave gets a better look at the drawing when Kurt tilts his sketch book his way. There's lots of long sharp lines but Dave can make out the vague unfinished form of, to his surprise, a female. "That's a lot less frilly than what I'd figure you'd make for a chick."

"Sometimes I get so sick of the flow-y, princess outfits the women get. Plus, most skate outfits are godawful hideous. I get that sequins catch the eye but that many on a male - or, hell, a _female_ - costume is just wrong." Dave quirks a smile and waited for Kurt to look up at him. Kurt just gives a heavy eye roll as he clucks his tongue. "Oh, just say it. Laugh at the wee little queeny gay wanting to make more masculine figure skating costumes. Laugh it up, Karofsky."

Instead Dave asks, "Do you like it?"

Kurt frowns down at his sketchpad. "This outfit?"

"No. No, I mean designing outfits for skaters. I know it's your job and stuff but do you really like it?"

"I..." Kurt trails off and blinks up at Dave. Toeing his shoes off, he folds his legs up under himself and turns on the couch to properly face Dave. "It was supposed to be a stepping stone. Get some money flowing in, get my name out there and be all 'why yes I do make ice skating outfits in my spare time but more importantly look at my fashion line'. But taking on customers and having all these varied requests and random time restraints...it's been interesting. When Em hired me on full time I was a little hesitant. But it's been fun dealing with clothing not meant for the ice again. Even if most of his outfits aren't stitched by me."

"So, you're just-" Dave catches himself before he says 'his' because that just sounds weird in his head and back peddles, "You're only working for him, solely, now?"

"Hm? Oh, no. He first flew me out with him for this Nationals thing. And when he secured his place on the Olympic team and fully realized how fantastically amazing I am he asked me to be part of his entourage. Really I'm just a glorified seamstress with a good eye for fashion. But, no, I still am very much busy with other commissions."

Dave's phone trills, reminding him of the practice he's got to get to in an hour. "Hey," Dave starts, surprising himself with the loudness. He clears his throat and holds out his phone. "I've got a meeting to get to in an hour, want to swap numbers and maybe grab some dinner tonight if your skater doesn't already have plans with you?"

Kurt doesn't even hesitate as he pulls his own phone out and swaps with Dave to enter in their contact info. And Dave doesn't even want to think how pleased he is when Kurt extended his arm and snapped a picture of himself with the explanation of Dave needing a good caller ID pic of him. Kurt then tells him to call no later then six about dinner plans and tosses out he still has yet to sample some of the local cuisine. Dave has to literally bite his lip to keep himself from blurting out "it's a date".

Kurt slips his phone back into his pocket and grabs his sketch back up again. "Did I mention that this morning this Russian coach asked about commissioning a pairs costume?"

When Dave looks up he sees Kurt smiling widely and knows that even if this isn't exactly what Kurt had planned for his career he's definitely enjoying himself.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dave is sprawled out on a bench in the locker room having just helped win a game over Sweden. An icepack is being held to his bruised ribs as he glares disdainfully down at his skates. He wonders how much the guys would mock him if he asked one of them to help him take them off because he really doesn't want to bend over right now.

"Hey, Davey, you coming out with us tonight? We're partying it up France style tonight-"

"What does that even mean?" comes from a row back, from Nick if Dave's right.

"-with the team. You've been MIA at best lately, bro," Ryan says as he sits across from Dave and kicks at his skates.

"Oh, come on, he's found himself a hot piece of ass!" And, yeah, that's definitely Nick.

"Hot?" Ryan questions, laughing.

Nick peeks around the lockers. "I may be straight but even I can appreciate a good lookin' guy. And Karofsky's guy is good lookin'."

"You found yourself an Olympic Bootycall and you haven't told me about it? I thought we were friends! Y'know, when I'm not beating your ass back home. Right now we're all Team USA and all those NHL rivalries mean nothing. If you're tapping something, share, bro!"

"I'm not tapping anything. Least of all Kurt." Ryan gives Dave a thoroughly skeptical look and Dave admits, "Even if I'd really like to." Really, really like to, Dave mentally amends. They've taken to spending a good chunk of their days together when they're not busy with their Olympic obligations. And they totally had a kinda, maybe dinner date at a mediocre restaurant last night.

"'Kurt', huh? So not a little local hottie? That's too bad, though I guess your french kinda sucks. Which is weird cause you were up in Canada for a bit, right?"

"Dude, I was in Calgary. That's like the least french place ever." Dave shifts and pulls the not so icy icepack away from his side. "I used to know Kurt from back home. It's been nice catching up."

"Oh, my god, you're in love with him!" Dave isn't sure if Ryan's just being obnoxious or if it's written over his face but it's something he's really starting to worry about. "You have to share! What's he like? Where's he from? What's his favorite hockey team?"

"You remember that American who helped that little Japanese skater that face planted and won gold? That's Karofsky's Kurt Hummel."

Ryan gaped at Dave, who is busy shooting the departing Nick a 'stalker, much?' look, "The one who's too pretty for you?"

"Ladies, gossip is better suited over a couple a'beers."

Dave nods as a couple of their teammates pass by. Ryan's still sitting across from him looking far too interested in Dave's personal life. "Yeah, I'm coming out with you guys tonight." He lifts his leg to shake his skate at Ryan and adds, "You take my skates off for me and I'll even buy the first round."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Someone was leaning against what was probably his door, Dave realizes as he stepped out of the elevator. He has a brief moment to imagine it's Kurt's little ice skater warning Dave off and then he blinks and quickly recognizes the form.

"Hey, Kurt."

"I am ridiculously bored!" Kurt declares, jabbing his nail file in Dave's face. "Em's all busy doing the media runs and prepping for the Gala and everyone else is spazzing over the Olympics. Yawn. Where have you been?"

Dave just grins and hefts his duffel bag higher on his shoulder. "Spazzing over the Olympics? You know I'm here to play hockey, right?" Dave moves in closer, giving Kurt a light hip-check so he can get his door open. "I picked up my parents from the train station this morning. Then I was stuck at practice 'til now." Why him and the guys decided to go drinking the night before a planned practice is still lost on him.

"Practice? God, that's so boring." Kurt snags Dave's swipe-card off of him and shoves him out of the way as Dave fumbles with opening his door a second time. "You're a professional hockey player, right? What's there to practice? It's not like I sit around it my room practicing my slipstitching."

"We're practicing how to play as a team," Dave explains, giving a groan of relief as he is finally able to drop his duffel to the floor. A lamp gets switched on as Kurt makes his way over to the small table and Dave watches as Kurt makes himself comfortable in his room. He pointedly ignores the warm feeling that bubbles low in his gut. "I've spent the last few years playing against these guys on the ice. I know how to beat them, not a 100% on how to play with them."

Kurt gives a little hum and leans over the table to study the playbook Dave had left there earlier. A little furrow appears between Kurt's brows as he reads the pages over and Dave's sorely tempted to make a teasing comment about wrinkles. Instead he busies himself by going through his things to get a clean change of clothes as he's very aware of his sweat soaked outfit.

"Hey, do you mind if I grab a quick shower?"

Kurt's eyes linger on Dave which Dave finds odd because there's no way he'd only just realized the hockey player's state. Kurt gives a little nod as he says, "I'll be here."

Dave strips down quickly the moment he closes the bathroom door behind him, tossing his dirty clothes in the corner he's been tossing his towels this week. Bless housekeeping. Soaping up quickly and scrubbing some shampoo through his hair, Dave makes quick work of his shower. Barely five minutes later he's toweling himself off. He's got this odd worry of Kurt poking through his things or maybe simply getting bored and leaving. So as soon as he gets his pants on he swings the bathroom door open 'to let some steam out'. He tugs his sweater on quickly when he notices Kurt look up from his playbook.

His _playbook_, damn. Coach would have his head if he realized someone not on the team was looking through it.

Kurt's on his feet before Dave can fully string together a plea of not selling their secrets to another team. "C'mon, lets go for a walk. Your gym bag is starting to stink up the whole room."

Dave eyes his duffel dubiously but agrees nonetheless.

Their walk wasn't mapped out and they wandered aimlessly through and around the Olympic Village all the while chatting about whatever came to mind. A camera swung loosely in Kurt's grip and while they hadn't planned their afternoon it was decided that they had to make it to the Olympic Flame at some point. Dave was thoroughly amused when Kurt had beat him to the flaming joke.

"So your parents are here now, huh? Should I maybe not be monopolizing your free time?"

"Hell, no." And, yeah, that was probably too eager but whatever. It's not like Kurt can't know by this point how much Dave is enjoying their time spent together. "My parents have never been to France before so they're doing all the tourist-y things. They spent the last week in Paris, only just taking the train into Annecy today. I'm just glad we're still in contention for a medal and I have hockey as an excuse to spend as little time with them as possible." Dave blinks in shock as Kurt's hands curls around his arm and he stops to look over at Kurt.

"Are they not ok with you being out?" Kurt asks carefully.

It must be such an inconceivable notion for someone who grew up with such an expecting father. "They weren't thrilled. My mom took it hardest. Though that may be because my dad may have suspected longer."

"Your mom? I always kind of figured..."

"She's very much thinks that a man and woman should get married right out of their teen years and start making a family asap. It doesn't help that my sister and brother-in-law have this whole structured plan about when it's best to have kids. So the fact that I can't knock up my boyfriend is completely stressful to her."

"If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you come out to them?"

Dave blinks and is surprised Kurt doesn't already know. Though he doesn't recall the full story coming up in his Out interview but he does know he shared it in a few other media outlets. "I was kinda an ass about it. We were at the airport, I was flying out to Missouri for school, and I told them then. I'm going to board my plane in an hour and I'm gay. If I don't hear from you guys by next month I'll send some money to have my shit boxed up and shipped to me."

"You just-?"

"Just told them point blank and ran for the airport security," Dave confesses. Kurt had one hand clasped over his mouth and Dave can't tell if the other man was amused or horrified.

"Well, I guess that's one way to avoid a messy confrontation," Kurt says weakly. "I'm glad it worked out for you."

"They didn't talk to me for three weeks," Dave admits as he starts walking again. He recalls the sick, resignation as the weeks wore on and trying to convince himself it was just the nerves of starting university. "It worked out eventually. It was better than when I outed myself to everyone else via Facebook. Changed my preference to 'men' and allowed everybody one 'wtf' freakout before I defriended their asses."

"Never let it be said that David Karofsky doesn't have style." Kurt snaps a quick picture of Dave before tugging him into the throng of people.

The third time within the hour that someone passed them and threw their fists in the air as they yelled out "Karofsky" finally breaks Kurt. He lets out a very non-Kurtlike snort and shoves at Dave's shoulder.

"My god, it's like high school all over again."

Dave's pretty confident it's most definitely not. "I dunno, man, these last few days it's been you shoving me around and showing up at my room."

"Touché." The pair continue on silently for a few more minutes before Kurt speaks up again. "I must admit that I rather like this after high school version of you. How did this happen?"

The answer was painfully simple. "I stopped lying to myself." It's amazing that such a small thing changed so much. Though it occurs to Dave suddenly that maybe Kurt was questioning how it was that he had started liking Dave. Or maybe he was just tossing one of those useless rhetorical questions out. "It's fuckin' ridiculous how exhausting and sickening it is to keep up this whole charade to not just the whole outside world but yourself. Like maybe if I told myself enough times that I totally liked girls I'd wake up one morning and actually would."

Kurt gives him a sad smile as he fiddles with his scarf. "I don't get why you couldn't have just said something. You could have stayed in the closet until you got out of Lima but you would have been able to-"

"Woulda, shoulda and all that other stuff, right? I dunno. The shit I went through...it got me here, right now. Who knows, maybe if I didn't hate myself so much in high school I wouldn't have been able to fuel it all into hockey. Maybe I would have just been an ok player who was openly gay. But, yeah, I like this place now," Dave says giving a small shrug. He really likes the place he was at right now. Glancing to the side he's all too pleased to see Kurt smiling up at him. His fingers itch to reach out and touch so Dave busies himself by saying, "Being in a place where it's no big deal to turn to your teammate and say 'I would totally suck that ginger's cock' is surprisingly nice." The comment garners another, what Dave had always assumed to be, uncharacteristic snort of laughter out of Kurt. Though maybe, much like all the preconceived and imagined notions Kurt held of him, these were things that Kurt did with all the people he became close and comfortable enough with.

Yeah, Dave had to admit he rather likes this after high school version of Kurt, too.

_ToBeContinued_

_A.N: So, I'm gonna break this here because I've been fighting with a chunk in the final bit of this. I figure, post this now and sleep on the rest. The second, and final, part of this should be posted tomorrow. Hope yous enjoyed this so far!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Ok, so I'm a lying liar who lies. Sorry this wasn't posted last night. You can blame the flu that's going around and forcing me into being called into work to cover an extra shift.  
Also, this really isn't a "M" rated fic...soft M at best...but FFnet's rating system sucks.

.

"Play-off's this afternoon. Think I'm gonna barf," Dave utters from his corner of the couch in the lounge. Yup, this is definitely Their Place. Kurt had even politely shooed away some Norwegians who were sitting here a half hour earlier.

"Play-offs?"

"Semifinals? No? This game determines if we'll be playing for gold or bronze." Oh, shit. "Oh, shit, this game could determine that we don't medal at all."

"Oh, right. Yes, I suppose that would be somewhat important," Kurt says, pulling the lid off his latte and discarding it on the table in front of him. "I can't believe how long all these hockey games are. Em was finished with his event barely halfway through the games."

Dave knows that the only reason Kurt is still around was that his employer had managed to medal. He's never been so happy for an ice skater to win a bronze medal. Seriously, he should send the kid flowers or something.

Twenty minutes later and Dave is still bemoaning his nerves and apparently Kurt can't help himself and decides to tease him. "Should I track you down a paper bag? You look a little green there, David."

"Don't think I have anything left to hurl." After a rather lackluster pep talk from his dad over breakfast, Dave had found himself hunched over a toilet and thoroughly regretting that side-order of sausage.

"Want me to grab you some food, than?" Kurt asks. "You've got your big game, which you probably shouldn't be playing on an empty stomach. I can get you something before I have to leave."

Dave watches as Kurt stands up and starts collecting things and carefully stowing them away in his satchel. The large clock on the wall reads 11:38. "I should probably go too," Dave says, looking around the lounge. "I stay here too long looking scared and pathetic all alone someone will take a picture and post it online." Ugh, Dave just knows there's still that horrid picture of him with his hand down some guy's pants at a club from like two years ago floating around cyber space.

"You'll do fine," Kurt says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I've been informed you've been playing exceptionally well so far." Kurt starts to turn away before hesitating and pivoting back quickly to face Dave. There's this odd look in Kurt's eyes as he opens and then quickly closes his mouth without saying anything. With a quick shake of his head, Kurt starts walking back to Dave.

Dave has barely a moment to be confused as to why Kurt's moving in so close to him when his soft lips are pressed briefly to his.

"For good luck" is whispered by Kurt when finally he pulls back.

"What?"

"For your game you're going to be playing in, like, three hours?" Kurt is sporting that ever so enticing blush again and is pointedly not meeting Dave's gaze. Reaching up, the stylist fiddles with Dave's collar and then smooths his hand over the curve of Dave's shoulder and down the length of his arm before giving a slight tug at the hem of his sleeve. "I should really be heading back now."

Dave makes a non-committal noise and can't stop staring at Kurt. He wants nothing more than to lean forward and re-capture those lips he's been fixated on for far longer than what is even remotely healthy but he knows what a colossal mistake that would be. It's not his place, he hasn't earned the right. Right? But the fact that Kurt willingly moved in himself does things to Dave. His hand is up and cupping the side of Kurt's face before he's even realized he moved. A brush of his thumb over Kurt's bottom lip is all he allows himself before he forcefully removes himself from Kurt's immediate space. "Thank you."

Those two words are loaded and both men are fully aware of it.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dave meets up with his team and is still in a visible daze. It was barely a kiss at all but it was from _Kurt_. And after everything in their past, it's huge. At least Dave thinks it was huge. Kurt had lingered and touched. Dave's gotten good luck kisses in the past and they tended to consist of pecks on the cheeks accompanied by toothy smiles or hearty slaps on the back. Dammit, he was going to spend this whole game trying to analyze the kiss Kurt had given him.

Daley, their assistant coach, gives Dave a knowing grin and thwacks Dave on his back. "Give your boyfriend a call. I'll make sure there's a ticket for him tonight." Daley has his walky-talky out and is striding away from him before Dave can form any sort of response.

His phone is in his hands before Dave can really even think about it fully. All he can think about is how awesome it would be to have Kurt sitting in the crowd cheering for him. Kurt's line is ringing and Dave's a little happy when he gets sent through to voicemail because it gives him a second to compose himself and figure out what he's going to say.

The locker room is filled with the usual pre-game buzz and Dave finds it easy to put his phone away and get pulled into the normal routines and prep.

It all passes far too quickly and suddenly it's time to take the ice. Kurt never gets back to him one way or another with if he was actually going to attend the game. And Dave does not care. He doesn't. Hockey really probably isn't much of Kurt's thing. And he's probably busy with that Gala thing he keeps talking about. And so what if he gave Dave a good luck kiss.

Ryan eagerly pushes past him and starts zipping around the ice. Dave takes it a bit slower, crouching down and making sure all his gear is snug. He starts skating a little lazily as he takes in the Belarus, Belarusian?, team across the rink. Dave still doesn't have a goddamn clue where the hell that country is located and decides to place full blame on Mr. McKavan back in Lima.

Beside him, their left winger Ostrzyeki yells out "baby" and waves up at the crowd to his wife. Dave chuckles and looks over, making a mental point of not being jealous. Ostrzyeki's wife is all sorts of cute, looking like some sort of wannabe mob wife from Jersey, fur coat and glinting gold and neon colors. And then, much to his shock, he spots Kurt. Of course Daley would have stashed Kurt along with the wives and family of the rest of the guys. Dave swallows thickly when he notices his parents seating barely seats away from Kurt a row back.

And quite suddenly the fact that this game is going to determine if their team is even eligible to be playing for a medal is completely trivial. Seriously, there's karma and then there's shit like this. It's just not fair.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Good game, David, good game. Congratulations."

Dave pauses for a moment and scans the crowd outside arena before he finally locates his parents and the source of the voice. They both have their special visitor passes on but still aren't allowed access to the backstage area. He makes his way over quickly, smiling and waving at the various cameras and well wishes being aimed his way.

Dave tries not to stare too long at Kurt who's at his mother's side. Her rose colored nails are latched onto Kurt's arm like talons and he makes a mental note to thank Kurt later for not snapping at the woman over marking up his jacket. It's clearly on the man's mind though. Dave can see the irritation clearly in the flash of white that are Kurt's teeth clenching together. Yeah, he's going to really have to thank Kurt for not snarling.

So, yeah, clearly hoping that his parents and Kurt wouldn't cross paths was a futile wish. He can only hope too much hasn't been said while we wasn't present. There's no way his karmatic balance should be this far in the red. Not after all this time.

"Hey, guys!" Dave finds himself exclaiming. He really just wants to greet Kurt first but he knows his mother would take it as a personal insult if she wasn't addressed first. He feels a little bad for thinking maybe Kurt would too.

"Oh, sweetheart, there you are! Look what we have here!" His mom gives a smile that Dave is nearly positive is completely sincere as she glances to her side at Kurt. "You can imagine our surprise, David, when this one started talking about Lima of all places! It was like a breath of fresh air! You didn't tell us you were bringing any..._friends_ with you, sweetheart."

Leaning in, Dave presses a kiss to his mother's cheek. He flicks his gaze over briefly to Kurt's and offers the man an apologetic smile. "I wasn't sure if Kurt was going to attend the game or not-"

"I'm very busy," Kurt quips quickly.

And Dave quickly realizes neither he nor Kurt had addressed the 'friend' comment which clearly should have been done first if that glint in his mother's eyes is anything to go by. "Kurt was a surprise for me too, actually. We ran into each other in the Olympic Village last week. I haven't seen Kurt in years."

His father grabs his arm and pulls Dave in to pat him on the back. The low words that follow aren't a surprise. "That's that boy isn't it? The one from High School? From when you were nearly expelled?" Dave's thankful that his father is trying to be discreet about this. It's a toss up if his father has already shared this with his mother. Though from the way his mother is chatting Kurt's ear off, Dave is pretty sure she has no idea that Kurt is The One. Ugh, seriously, did he just mentally think 'The One'?

"We really should be leaving," his mother speaks up, drawing the attention back to herself. "I hear that these restaurants are only holding reservations for 10 minutes. 10 minutes! If you're any later they completely throw your reservation out. I understand that it's the Olympics but that seems completely unnecessary to me. Oh, Kurt, sweetheart, you'll be joining us tonight, won't you? Oh, of course you are! Isn't he, David?"

"Mrs Karofsky, I'd love to but I really am far too busy. I barely found the time to make it to this match thingy tonight. Emerson is attending an event tomorrow and is still up in arms over what he needs to wear."

"He knows Nathaniel Emerson, David! Did you know that? That's absolutely fascinating. Such grace. I still can't believe he's straight."

Dave's eyes fly to Kurt and the slighter man gives an obnoxious eye roll and mouths 'Emerson, idiot'. Right. Obviously. "Well, if you're sure you can't, Kurt. We really should try to make our way to a car or something."

"Of course, of course. For our reservations." Dave watches as his mother turns and smiles back at Kurt. "Well, you tell that Nathaniel that he is a wonderful skater. Maybe we can do brunch tomorrow. We'll see you around, won't we, David? At the very least at David's final game. We should make sure to see about getting our seats together. Who would we need to talk to about that, David?"

"I'm really not sure if that's even possible, mom."

"Well, yous have a great meal, I'm sure it will be wonderful." Kurt very carefully, and discreetly, peels the hands off of his arm. "Ah, congrats on the game," Kurt directs at Dave. "It was well played, I guess. Well, obviously, because you won..."

Dave moves in and draws Kurt in for a hug before he can walk away. Yeah, he's abusing the very public setting in hopes that Kurt won't freak out like Dave had imagined him doing this past week if he was to move in too close. The arms that reach up and wind around his shoulders feel nearly as good as the kiss Kurt had given him earlier. Dave presses his face into Kurt's neck, out of his parents sight, and mouths a wet kiss to the exposed flesh. "Thank you for coming today. I liked...I liked having you in the crowd."

Kurt pulls back just enough to study Dave's face. He gives a shake of his head as he reaches up to brush his thumb over the small butterfly bandage that is holding Dave's split lip together. "You're a bunch of brutes, you are." They have a quiet moment before Kurt seems to remember that Dave's parents are not even four feet away from them and that there's still cheering American fans further behind them. He pulls himself out of Dave's arms and straightens his jacket. "Have a good night."

"I'll talk with you tomorrow?"

Kurt just nods before he slips away into the stadium, flashing his various passes at the event staff and guards as he goes.

The nails that had been latched onto Kurt suddenly find their way into Dave's arm and he grimaces briefly at his mother.

"Such a _lovely_ young man, David. You two seem to get along well and you're still so painfully single."

"Leave it, Lydia," Dave's dad mumbles as he tries to steer his wife towards the road.

"So, do you know what Kurt's stance on adoption is?"

"Mom!" Jesus. Dave prays that none of these reporters are leaning in close enough to hear any of this.

"Look, I've finally... If you have to be a homosexual, than fine but the least you could do is start adopting me some grandbabies. You haven't brought a man home to meet the family in ages."

Dave has brought home exactly one man to meet the family. It was during his final year of university and it had been a complete clusterfuck of badness. And while that was definitely a large deciding factor in whether or not Dave was bringing any boyfriends home, the truth was there hadn't been anyone serious enough to garner a plane ticket since then.

"Kurt seems a little overly effeminate but at least it'd be obviously who wore the pants in your relationship."

Oh sweet Jesus, this dinner is going to be hell.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dave doesn't wait until the next day to see Kurt again. In fact, after he deposits his parents back at their hotel room after dinner and makes vague plans for the following day, he searches out Kurt's room as soon as he makes his way back to the Village. He just...he needs to see Kurt again. Needs to make sure things are still ok between them. Needs to know that...what happened earlier wasn't a fluke or something. Needs to know what the hell it means. If anything.

When he finally knocks on Kurt's door he's breathing heavy and he's not even sure why.

Kurt opens the door and looks in surprise at Dave. He doesn't slam the door shut, so Dave counts it as a win.

"I-I hope you don't mind me showing up here."

"No. No, of course not." And Kurt opens his door a little wider.

"I needed," Dave starts but quickly draws a blank. He needed to _what_? "I needed to see you. I just-"

"You can," falls softly from Kurt's lips and Dave's sure the only reason that he's even heard it is because he's been staring. Dave frowns up in confusion so Kurt continues, "You...you're staring. I-it's quite clear what... You can, I'm giving you permission."

"Say it," comes out in a near growl that Dave is thoroughly ashamed of. "Say it, Kurt."

"Kiss me."

Oh, god. Dave stumbles two steps forward and has a brief panic over where to put his hands before he just goes for it and cradles Kurt's face to draw their mouths together. Dave wants to be poetic about it and say it was electric and there were fireworks and maybe there were but all he can focus on is _oh god, so fucking good_. And even though Kurt had managed to gain a few more inches in height since Dave had last had the pleasure of standing near a teenage Kurt, Kurt still fits fantastically against him. Dave doesn't have to hunch over or stretch his neck out to be able to capture Kurt's soft lips. His head is still the perfect size that Dave is able to splay his hands out to cradle and tilt his head up. The perfect size that allows Dave to card his fingers through the silky hair and rub his thumb over the flushed skin of his cheek.

The first press of lips is brief and Dave has to pull back just to see. Just to make sure it's still ok and make sure it's still real and still Kurt. Kurt's mouth is still open and Dave barely gets a look at all before manicured nails are tugging him back in.

"C'mon, inside," Kurt mumbles against Dave's mouth as he tugs at Dave's coat. Dave's just inside Kurt's room when he finds himself being pushed back. His back hits the door and a few steps backwards has the door clicking shut loudly behind them. "Touch me."

Dave's gaze darts up in shock at the whispered words. He tries to not hear the sigh Kurt gives because he's sure it's one of annoyance. Yeah, Dave's well on his way to fucking this whole thing up before it's actually a thing at all. Before Dave can follow Kurt's instruction, Kurt wraps his hand around Dave's and draws it down to eagerly slip under his own shirt. And that's really all the prompting Dave needs to allow his hand free reign of exploring the warm, taut flesh hidden underneath Kurt's red button-down shirt. His other hand finds it's way to Kurt's neck. Fingers brushing along the hair at his nape and his palm pressed solidly to the rapid flutter of Kurt's pulse.

"Kept waiting for you to do something this last week," Kurt confesses breathlessly as he presses his lips to Dave's jaw. "And when I started to think I was reading things wrong I'd notice you staring again. So, stop...stop waiting for permission."

Dave watches Kurt grab at his coat and make quick work of his buttons. When his coat is shoved off his shoulders, Dave finally gets with the program. He eagerly pulls his shirt off over his head before lurching forward to help Kurt with his own. They make their way towards Kurt's bed, articles of clothes, mostly Dave's, being discarded to the floor every couple of steps.

They're in bed when Dave finally manages to tug off Kurt's lounge pants. Dave pulls back just enough to fully take in the sight of Kurt splayed out naked in front of him. Letting out a groan of appreciation at the view, Dave runs his hands up Kurt's thighs to just feel. "So much better than I remember."

"Should've known it would have been _you_ who was sneaking a peak at _my_ junk in high school."

The light laughter from Kurt draws Dave's surprised look up. "You remember-?"

"I may not recall all the insults I threw out," Kurt says, his fingers curling around Dave's shoulder and easily pushing the larger man over onto his back. Dave's breath hitches when those pale thighs he'd just been exploring spread to straddle his waist. "But a boy always remembers his first kiss."

First kiss? _Fuck_, how had Dave never known that? Kurt's right though, a boy always does remember his first kiss. And right now Dave wants to show Kurt exactly how far along he's come since then.

It takes a stupid amount of self-restraint to not just shove his tongue into Kurt's mouth because all Dave wants to do is taste. He busies himself by nipping sharply at Kurt's plump bottom lip making sure Kurt's mouth looks bruised and swollen and taken.

Kurt starts to move down Dave's body, his thighs rubbing deliciously over Dave's. And when those skilled hands follow along, touching and stroking, Dave's blood rushes south so quickly he's sure he's going to black out.

Dave wants nothing more than to close his eyes and fully enjoy the feel of Kurt pressed against him. It'd be a wasted opportunity though, wouldn't it? So he forces his eyes open as he pants into Kurt's shoulder.

It's rather embarrassing how quickly Dave finds himself coming. He can't help but squeeze his eyes close tight, finally looking away from Kurt, as he gives a quiet cry. The keening noise breaks through the foggy haze and Dave remembers his manners as he fumbles his hand down to help Kurt along.

They lay there silently for several long minutes, the only sound between them their panting, or maybe it's just Dave's. He's really not sure why it feels as if he's spent an hour skating laps. His hands starting to get sticky but he can't find the energy to search out a cloth or tissue.

"I'm sorry," Dave says, his nose brushing at Kurt's hair. He's had a reason, a reason beyond wanting nothing more than to sink deep into Kurt and never leave, for showing up at Kurt's room. "I'm so sorry for anything my parents may have said to you. That's...that's as good as it's going to get with them"

"What?"

"I just...that's why I came to see you. I wanted...I wanted to make sure they didn't say anything that-"

Kurt just laughs and curls himself closer. "I think I should be thoroughly insulted that I'm all naked and pressed against you and you're talking about your _parents_. Hush, or you'll kill my buzz."

"Mmm, there'll be no buzz killing. In fact, you give me a few minutes and I'll be more than happy to start this all over again."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"I want you to come to my game," Dave says later that night.

Kurt doesn't pull away which Dave counts as a win - and he really seems to be piling those up today - but he does look away. "I can't. I'm heading back to the US after the Exhibition."

"It's just one day," Dave counters.

"I've already been here nearly a week longer than anticipated. Em's already delayed my flight once."

"I'll pay for it, no problem."

"It's not about the money."

"No, it isn't. It's about me asking if you'd be willing to cheer me on to gold."

"Really?" Kurt questions quietly, moving in to Dave's space and licking at his bottom lip. Dave opens his mouth automatically and is rewarded with Kurt licking his way into his mouth. Jesus, Dave's never been a huge fan of mint but the taste of _Kurt_ and that hint of mint is nearly intoxicating. "You just want me here to cheer you on during your game? Because I'm pretty sure I could watch that game from nearly anywhere." Kurt tugs at Dave's shoulder to roll the larger man over and on top of himself. As Dave carefully settles his weight over Kurt he's sure the sigh Kurt gives is one of contentment.

"You're right. It's about me," Dave says quietly, staring down at Kurt.

"And?" Kurt prompts.

"It's about me wanting you."

"And?" Kurt prompts again.

Dave shakes his head, "No, that's...that's all." The little noise Kurt makes at the admission shoots right down to his groin. Dave is helpless and all too happy to let Kurt loop his leg around Dave's waist and be drawn down to have Kurt recapture his lips.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Dave blinks away the piercing glare of the sun and reaches across the bed to...find it empty? He has a brief moment to question his sanity when the bathroom door swings open and a deliciously naked Kurt walks out. Dave's breath catches as he watches Kurt roughly towel dry his hair before discarding the towel and walking over to kneel on the bed.

Kurt captures Dave's hand and tries to tug him up. It's a completely useless attempt because Dave is always dead weight in the morning. With a groan, he pushes himself into a seated position. Kurt leans in and presses a kiss to Dave's shoulder. "I left some toiletries on the counter for you," Kurt says, tilting his head towards the bathroom.

Subtlety thy name is not Kurt Hummel.

Dave stretches and gives a wide yawn making sure to not breathe all over Kurt. Groaning at the effort, he rolls out of bed and starts stumbling towards the open door. He's half tempted to just skip the shower but Kurt's trailed behind him into the bathroom and is staring. His still rather sleep leaden brain recognizes the heated looks Kurt is giving him and Dave can't believe he's managed to forget he was as naked as Kurt.

He decides to give Kurt a show and quickly goes through his morning ritual. Fifteen minutes later, Dave's barely spit the mouthful of foam into the sink when Kurt is leaning in to steal a minty kiss.

Wrapping his hands around Kurt's waist, Dave effortlessly lifts the man up and places him on the counter. The shocked squeak Kurt gives when his bare ass hits the cold surface causes Dave to chuckle.

"So," Kurt says, pulling away and nipping at Dave's jaw. "We'll always have Annecy? Doesn't quite have the same ring as 'Paris' but, meh."

Dave is silent for a long stretch and bides his time by reaching out and brushing Kurt's still damp hair from his forehead. The question was certainly tossed out in a playful manner but it's definitely one of the last things Dave wants. He's just not sure exactly how Kurt feels about this.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Kurt. We could have more. I know I want more."

"I don't even know where you live," Kurt confesses quietly.

"Told you, I play for the Bruins now."

"Yeah, and I might as well start explaining the ins and outs of-"

"Boston. I live in Boston."

"Boston," Kurt repeats.

"It's not right next door but it's still possible. If we want, it can work." It can, he's already Google mapped it. And between games and everything else...

Kurt nods and tugs at Dave's shoulders to draw him back in and Dave is happy to let himself be distracted.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"And you must be the famous David whose been eating up all Kurt's time!" Emerson smiles brightly and holds out his hand.

Dave wants to hate the kid but he's making it difficult. A quick glance around tells Dave that Kurt's already slipped off somewhere. Jerk. Kurt totally knew he was leaving an uncomfortable Dave in pretty little Emerson's hands. Breakfast had barely settled in Dave's stomach when Kurt was dragging him along to meet Emerson.

Dave blames the orgasms still making his brain fuzzy and sweet kisses that had started in the bathroom and continued while they dressed that morning. "Hey," Dave finally says weakly, giving in to the inevitable. Offering up his hand, Dave can't help but be a little startled by the firm grip and over-eager shaking.

"My big brother and dad are huge fans of yours! My dad says you could totally be the next - er, y'know, that other famous enforcer guy?" Emerson pulls a face in concentration. "I think it starts with a B or something? I don't know."

"Um, thanks. My, uh, mother is a big fan of yours. She got a little starry eyed when she learned that Kurt designs your outfits and actually knows you."

Emerson finally, _finally_, drops Dave's hand and gives a bright laugh. "Moms love me! It's the woe of the male figure skater."

Goddamn, what the hell is he supposed to say? Dave's doing his best to not be rude and curls his lips up in a half-hearted smile.

"I bet you and Kurt look amazing together! I, I so don't mean in the creepy way! I just mean in the contrasting kinda way. My first girlfriend was my height but a little waifier than me and built like a boy. It musta been like lookin' in a mirror! Two peas in a pod! Bor-ring! But she gave really good head. But then my mom found out I was 'sexually active' and totally blew a gasket!"

Shoot him. Seriously, shoot him. Why the hell did the kid think Dave even cared? Why wouldn't he stop? Dave nervously glances around the room and is surprised to find Kurt leaning against the bathroom door frame. The little smug grin on Kurt's face earns him a glare. Kurt just shakes his head and mouths "Not my type."

Ah, so Dave hadn't been as subtle about his jealousy over the time Kurt spent with Emerson as he'd thought.

"I just need him for another hour and then he's yours for the day!" Emerson must have watched them staring at each other and assumed, well not the worst but assumed nonetheless if the blush staining his cheeks is anything to go by.

"As much as I'd love that the teams going into lockdown in prep for tomorrow's game." And he still has to make up with brunch or something with his parents after blowing them off this morning.

"Oh." And Emerson looks honestly disappointed by that. It's right then and there that Dave realizes he can't hate the little skater. It's like hating on a kitten. "But what's Kurt supposed to do with his day?"

"Uh, I guess there's that-"

"Well, thank you busy bodies for trying to plan out my day for me," Kurt says, rolling his eyes.

"So what are you planning to do with your day?"

"I figured sightseeing and taking all those photos I promised mom."

Dave wonders if Kurt will share the ones the two of them took in front of the Olympic Flame with his parents. "Sounds like fun. It's snowing a bit but not too cold out right now. Maybe...maybe later tonight I can call you when I finish up with the team?"

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, glancing away to fiddle with his camera.

"Yay, it's a date!" Emerson gives a few claps before grasping onto Dave's arm and dragging him towards the door. Dave has a moment to ponder at the skater's strength before the door is opening and he's being pushed out. "Now get the hell out. It's a fashion emergency and you're wasting valuable time."

Dave blinks as the door is slammed in his face. Right.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The rest of the day blurs by in a rush that Dave can barely process. Something he is aware of though is that it's bright and early and the day of his gold medal game and he's still curled up in bed. The last day of the Olympics.

Kurt huffs in his sleep and his nails lightly scrape over Dave's hips as he tries to tug them closer together in his sleep. Dave is happy to help the sleeping man out and shuffles in closer.

Dave has a vague memory of calling Kurt last night when he finally made his way back to his room. He doesn't really recall much after that beyond exhaustion. The boxers twisting around his thigh are an obvious indicator that nothing strenuous had happened.

Dave lets Kurt's breathing lull him back to sleep.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Ok, so I gotta make my way to the locker room. I gotta game to win." Dave's got this shit covered. He's spent the morning with his parents and even managed to coerce Kurt into joining them for breakfast. His stomach is full, he's well rested, his mind is clear and, ok, he's smiling like a total idiot because Kurt's with him.

Kurt gives a playful smile as he gropes at Dave. "Go beat on some poor, unsuspecting Canadians."

"My mom just totally saw you grabbing my ass."

"Shut up, she did not."

"She actually really did." And now Dave has to try not to make eye contact with his parents. "Now I have to head down to the locker room and you're stuck sitting next to them later today for a couple hours. I know there's still a few hours 'til the game but she has a mind like a fox. Shoulda thought that one through, fancy."

Kurt grins and gives Dave a quick peck on the corner of his mouth. "Whatever you say, ham hock. I've got Nathaniel Emerson in my back pocket to distract her with. Go, have fun."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Fun. Fun, Dave reminds himself. If he thought his first official game on an actual NHL team was a nervous blur... Hell, if he thought the game against Belarus was a nervous blur he really isn't sure what to think of this.

The only thing he really remembers about the coaches talk is them stressing to guard the net, that being defensive was the only way to win against the Canadians. He remembers stepping onto the ice and the fucking roar of the crowd and he maybe thinks he actually did hear his name over the loudspeakers but the crowd was so fuckin' _loud_. He remembers taking a bad hit early on and sitting out for 15 minutes while trying desperately to remember how to breathe without it hurting so much. He remembers the quick call he makes before hitting the ice again for second period and getting stuck talking to his dad before Kurt had reclaimed his phone long enough for Dave to say he had plans for that pretty, little ass later.

And skating. He remembers lots of skating and getting low and blocking and shoving and a stupid fall he just knows is going to make it on some sports blooper reel.

And then...and then...

What the hell just happened?

Dave and his teammates are just kinda stuck standing there as those smug rat bastards start celebrating right there on the ice. Dave skates over to Ryan and grabs the other man's jersey. "Did we just fuckin' well _loose_?"

"Naw, man, we won second place! Stop looking so pissed off, there's cameras everywhere. I don't wanna be dubbed a sore loser."

"Who the fuck cares?" Oh, oh, there it is. That childhood notion that everything is supposed to be rainbows and fuckin' sunshine. He gets the guy and wins the game, right? "This is fuckin' bullshit!"

"Calm down, man. At least we beat Russia. Everyone said they'd take gold and it'd be only silver and bronze up for grabs." Ryan frees his jersey and starts skating towards the rest of their teammates giving Dave that stupid huge smile of his.

"Why the hell aren't you pissed we lost?" Dave asks. He scowls across the rink and starts skating towards center ice where the two teams are lining up to shake hands. Ok, yeah, he's maybe a bit more sour than he should be but _come on_! It's his first Olympics and everything has actually been going fucking well great this week. If Dave takes a moment he can look up into the crowd and find Kurt Hummel's flushed face cheering and clapping for him.

"Man, do you know how much pussy flashing my silver medal around is gonna net me? I'll tell you how much, as much dick as yours it gonna net you." Ryan waggles his eyebrows ridiculously as he skates into their line. "Or, wait...should I be saying ass instead of dick? I'm never sure with you, big boy."

Yup, that's his best friend. There are days when Dave really regrets feeling bad around knocking two teeth out of Ryan's mouth during the first NHL game Dave actually played. Though it kinda figures that it took buying some dude, at Dave's own insistence, a couple of false teeth to find himself a new best friend. Dave pulls his gloves off and starts to ponder if him being a silver medalist is going to play into the amount of putting out Kurt would be willing to do.

The calm finally settles in. And while Dave is still fuckin' sick over the fact that they _lost_ the simple act of shaking the hands of guys he's had the pleasure, and sometimes displeasure, of knowing over the past years brings him back to himself.

"Deek!" And suddenly there's Aaron skating out of the Canadian's line and launching himself at Dave. "We beat your ass! I will see you back on our ice this weekend, baby. I've missed knowing I've got you watching my back."

"I hate you," Dave grouses as he makes a show of pounding Aaron on the back a little harder than necessary.

"Do not. You're just angry that I'm gonna be the golden boy on the team when we get back and you're the measly numero dos."

"Kiss my ass, bitch."

Aaron just laughs and slips back into his own line. "You wish."

Finishing the line and congratulating the coaches, Dave skates over to where Ryan is lounging against the box. "Holy shit!"

Ryan huffs and looks over. "What's got your panties knotted now?"

"I just spent two weeks playing against the best hockey players in the world. I just won a goddamn silver medal at the goddamn Olympics!"

"And there we are! There's the Karofsky we all know and love."

"Dude, I got _laid_ the last couple-a nights by the guy I had a huge angry gay crush on in high school."

Ryan throws his head back at that and lets out that god awful braying laugh of his.

They're being corralled together again and Dave is suddenly wearing a fuckin' silver medal, holy shit!, and turning towards the crowd to try to search out his folks and Kurt. Thanks to the crush of the crowd angling in for a better look at the Canadian team it's actually surprisingly easy to find them. Smiling widely, he tugs his medal from his neck and lifts it high.

The fact that both his mom and Kurt snap a few pictures is far too pleasing.

"Par-tay in the locker room!"

Dave gives another wave up into the crowd and lets himself be pulled into the group leaving the ice.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The 'par-tay' in the locker room turns into a media frenzy in no time and Dave's suddenly forced to answer the same saccharine questions.

You think they'd be happy the team was bringing home Silver but instead it's all "is there something you could have done better?" and shit.

The loud trill of his cellphone alerts Dave to an incoming text message. He reads the message quickly and doesn't even think twice about cursing loudly amidst the crowd of reporters and video cameras. Goddamn Kurt Hummel. Dave really hopes that his team isn't going to be too pissed over the fact that he's apparently going to be skipping out on the Closing Ceremonies.

Nothing in life is easy, is it?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Kurt!" Dave calls out uselessly as tries to maneuver his way through the crowd of people waiting for the EuroStar. Were there really that many people who'd made the effort to come see the Olympics but were leaving barely an hour before the Closing Ceremony? Y'know, besides apparently goddamn Kurt Hummel. He briefly regrets having changed out of his hockey gear because he's sure his shoulder pads would have come in handy right now for getting through the crowd. A hockey stick could be useful too.

The sleek, bold outfit _finally _catches Dave's eye. Dave shamelessly pushes through the last few people standing in his way deciding if anyone complains he'll flash them his medal. Reaching out, Dave grabs onto Kurt's shoulder. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Kurt Hummel trying to make a break for it."

"David!" Kurt looks both surprised and pleased to have been found.

"The one and only."

"So, we're doing this at the train station?" Kurt questions, tugging at his shoulder bag's strap. It's a nervous gesture that Dave bets Kurt doesn't realize he'd be able to pick up on. "Isn't this sort of cliché?"

"Probably. But professional athlete here. I hear we're kinda simple."

Kurt hums and glances around the crowd. "Em sold me out, didn't he?"

"Yup, and all it took was a blowjob." Dave grins when Kurt's wide gaze flies to him. "Joking. And you're jealous." Dave doesn't give Kurt any time to be annoyed as he pulls him in close. "Can't believe you tried to slip away like this."

"You have all your Olympic obligations to deal with. I thought I should-"

"You thought wrong." Pulling back, Dave reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a bag. He watches as Kurt curiously peers in and pulls out the printed maps with directions from Albany to Boston. Kurt quirks an eyebrow in confusion was he finds the coins. "For the tolls," Dave explains. "I want to see you, Kurt, when I get back. I don't want this to be it for us."

"I-I don't either but... We have to look at this logically."

"Fuck logic."

"We're not kids anymore, Dave. Logic is kinda important. This...this won't be easy."

"Nothing good ever is. We could just... We can at least try," Dave says before angling his head down and drawing Kurt into a slow kiss.

"It's not fair that you're so good at this kissing thing," Kurt murmurs against Dave's lips. "Even that first kiss... I was so upset that it was yours and that it was so good that I couldn't not think about it. It was so needy and it took me years before I found anyone else who had wanted me as desperately."

"Sorry."

"No you're not."

"No, I'm not," Dave readily agrees. Dave tugs at the red coat and Kurt comes quickly and steps back into Dave's arms. The hand that winds around his neck makes Dave smile.

"When will you be back on US soil?"

And that sounds like magic to Dave's ears. Kurt's question is honest and definitely a little eager. "Three days. Gotta stay for all the 'day after' hype and my publicist made sure I had a down day before the flight home," Dave explains, worming his hand between the layer of clothing to lay flat against the warm skin of Kurt's lower back. "Maybe when I get back we can take some time off together. Go up to a B&B or something in Vermont."

"Oh, shut up."

"What?" Dave questions as he chuckles into Kurt's neck.

"There's gay and then there's B&Bing it up in Vermont." The tone from Kurt was rather tart but Dave could hear the grin seeping in. The fingers that had slipped into Dave's hair were also making no move to pull him away.

"We could elope," Dave jokes, pressing one last kiss to Kurt's neck before pulling back. He wants to make sure Kurt knows he's just kidding...or gauge his reaction. No, no, just joking. He thinks. Probably. Yes. Most definitely. "Get matching white suits from Vera Wang."

Kurt scoffs as he rolls his eyes. The hand on Dave's shoulder pushes him away. "You're such a jerk."

"You love it." Kurt hums again instead of answering and Dave has to admit he loves the sound. Drawing Kurt in again Dave realizes he has to make this kiss count.

Dave could happily just stand there and kiss Kurt forever. But the sudden increase in noise from the platform alerts Dave that the train has arrived to whisk Kurt away to Paris. And from there the airport and then back to New York. Effectively far, far away from Dave.

Kurt frowns at the words flowing from the speakers that Dave can't make heads or tails of besides the few simple ones like 'Paris' and 'maintenant'. The smaller man gathers Dave's right hand between his two and raises it to press a kiss to his fingers. "I really have to..."

"So, I'll see you around?" Dave asks and he's far too pleased when Kurt gives his hand a tight squeeze and rewards Dave with a wide smile.

"Yes. Definitely." Kurt gives one final wave and slips into the crowd with his boarding pass.

Dave smiles as he finally looses sight of the other man because, yeah, he'll definitely be seeing Kurt Hummel again.

:  
Fin  
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**A/N:** Zomg, fluff. _Fluff_! I'm not even sorry! Reviews = luff! Any glaring tense or grammatical errors, please feel free to point them out. I really need to look into a beta...


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